


How to write a lab report

by quickoats



Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quickoats/pseuds/quickoats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig Tucker proves to be a highly uncooperative lab partner, and Wendy might have rabies. Such is life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to write a lab report

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago and I'm just dumping it here now.

“What in the _hell_ ,” Wendy begins, snatching her hand from the desk quicker than anything. “What the _hell_ was that?”

“Stripes,” Craig replies blandly, not bothering to even look up from his phone. “You shouldn’t have bothered him.”

“I was grabbing my book so I could start on the hypothesis!” Wendy cries indignantly, flapping the injured hand about wildly as if to shake off the pain. “Which was supposed to be _your_ job, by the way. Do you really let your hamster just run around your room?”

“He’s a guinea pig.”

“That’s disgusting. This place is disgusting. You’re disgusting,” she convicted, her eyes sweeping the jumbled excuse for a bedroom. “ _Why_ she didn’t let us pick our own partners-if I was working with Bebe we’d be finished already!”

“You really need to stop putting unnecessary emphasis on every other word,” Craig offered, swinging his legs down off his bed and tossing his phone aside. “Also you should see someone about that stick up your ass.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “You’re hilarious. Now I’m going to go wash this off so I don’t get rabies or some shit from your hellspawn of a gerbil.” And she stormed out of the room before he could correct her on the species of his pet, like she even _cared_. Unfortunately for her she was unfamiliar with the Tucker residence, so before long she found herself stranded in a foreign hallway, wondering uneasily which door lead to the bathroom (if there even was one, and she wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t).

“Looking for something?” said a disinterested voice from behind her. Wendy whipped around to find herself facing a very small girl with very red hair. “You’re one of Craig’s friends, aren’t you. The booze is on the bottom shelf of the fridge. Knock yourself out.” The girl - Craig’s sister? - turned to walk away. Wendy caught her by the sweater sleeve and whipped her back around.

“Actually, uh. I was just wondering where the bathroom is.” That disinterested deadpan definitely runs in the family. The kid jerked her head towards a door down the hall and wandered off.

As she scrubbed the blood from her hands Wendy happened to catch a glimpse of the look on her face. This was going to be her life for the next eight months.

It took all of her self control not to knock the stupid fucking landscape painting above her to the ground.


End file.
